


Just a Bit Outside

by WelpThisIsHappening



Series: You Play Ball Like a Girl [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-09-30 13:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10164413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WelpThisIsHappening/pseuds/WelpThisIsHappening
Summary: Killian Jones had it all. He had the job. He had the column. He was in charge of the best sports section in the entire city. Or so the tagline told him.It was all going according to plan – or, at least, getting back towards the general direction of the plan. That was, until, he got run over outside an elevator by a mess of blonde hair and green eyes and everything changed.A collection of outtakes and extra scenes and Killian's perspective from "You Play Ball Like a Girl."





	1. Chapter 1

“You’re being an idiot, you know.”

Killian looked up, raising his eyebrows at Aurora and meeting her stare from the other end of the couch.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, crossing his legs slowly and doing his best not to rub his hand or tug on his hair. She’d absolutely know he was lying then. At least now he had a chance to get away with

Or maybe not.

Aurora moved the baby to her other arm, leveling him with a very particular gaze and started to laugh – loudly.

That hardly seemed fair.

Killian glared at her, but Aurora didn’t move, didn’t even lower her eyebrows. She just kept staring at him in silence, waiting for him to finally admit that he was, in fact, being an idiot.

Which he absolutely was.

He shouldn’t have kissed her.

Or had Emma kissed him?

Killian wasn’t entirely sure. It had all happened so fast and there were hands everywhere and he thought she actually pulled on his jacket as leverage at one point. And, God, had really said that the problem was she didn’t want to keep kissing him?

He was absolutely an idiot.

“You’re right,” he said after a few more moments of staring and baby-gurgling. “I know you’re right.”

“In what world did you think it was ok to punch her boyfriend?” Aurora asked, patting Samantha’s back slightly. She still hadn’t stopped making that face.

“He’s not her boyfriend,” Killian answered, much quicker than he expected to.

Aurora made a significant face and widened her eyes, the threat of a smile dancing on her mouth. “You seem fairly confident in that piece of information.”

Killian drooped back farther into the corner of the couch, hoping he might just disappear as well.

He shouldn’t have come here.

No, he thought quickly, he should have come straight here – shouldn’t have followed Emma home after he hit Neal, should have let her react on her own time.

If there was one thing Killian knew about Emma Swan it was that she didn’t like to be pushed.

And he hadn’t just pushed – he’d shoved, with both hands, including his bad one.

“That’s just what Swan said,” he muttered, running his hand through his hair before he could stop himself. Aurora laughed triumphantly.

“What the hell, A?” Killian asked, earning a very different type of glare for daring to swear in front of her still non-verbal child.

“Killian,” she snapped and his eyes flashed to the baby who, it appeared, had actually fallen asleep.

He shrugged in apology and adjusted the chain around his neck – the one he absolutely never took off, the one that was good luck, the one that had been Liam’s. “A, if you’re just going to yell at me for being stupid, I’m definitely going to leave. I know I was stupid. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but it happened. I can’t really take it back now.”

“You could apologize,” she pointed out, standing up slowly to put Samantha in the crib that they moved into the living room as soon as he landed on her doorstep half an hour before.

“I did that.”

“You could mean it.”

“I do,” Killian said. “Things just got a bit complicated.”

Aurora turned back towards him, eyebrows low and a ‘mom’ look on her face that she had perfected far quicker than Killian would have expected. “Meaning?” she asked.

“You promise not to yell?”

“I just spent the last two hours trying to get my baby to fall asleep, Killian,” she said slowly, putting her hands on her hips as if that proved her point. “I’m not going to yell over your workplace romance.”

He eyed her speculatively, glancing at the sleeping baby in the crib and winced as he said the two words that had been bouncing around his brain since he walked off her doorstep. “We kissed,” he said.

Aurora yelled. Or maybe screeched was a better word.

Samantha started crying immediately.

“I’m going to kill you,” she hissed at Killian, spinning back towards her baby and scooping her up in one quick movement. Aurora spent several minutes trying to calm down Samantha before she stopped crying and laid her back in the crib, taking a deep breath that made her shoulders heave dramatically.

Killian sighed and ran his hand through his hair again – he must look like a disaster. Although some of that was certainly from Emma. He smiled slightly at the memory of that – pointedly ignoring that it hadn’t been exactly his most professionally ethical moment – and it didn’t take long for Aurora to delve into one of her patented ‘fix your life speeches.’

Ever since they had met at The Record, Killian and Aurora had been close.

It didn’t make sense.

They hated each other the very first day they were there – Killian just barely out of Colorado and still decidedly angry at, well, everyone – but Aurora had snuck into his life somehow and it didn’t take long until they were friends.

And it didn’t take long until Aurora realized she, desperately, needed to relax.

She had always been a bit high-strung – deadlines made her anxious, late-arriving credentials made her anxious and she was consistently pressing other photographers to make sure they didn’t steal her spot on the Barclays Center baseline. But, somehow, Killian had been able to help.

In his desperate desire to feel like himself again – to forget Milah and all of the almosts that had been ripped away from him – Killian decided he was going to get Aurora to relax.

They were both going to relax.

They were going to take on The New York Record and the deadlines and the mutual bouts of anxiety and they were going to be better people because of it.

Killian wasn’t sure if he had done it himself, but he’d never seen Aurora so happy.

“You kissed her or she kissed you?” Aurora asked, finally settling back onto the far end of her couch, pulling her legs up tightly to her chest.

“Does it matter, A?”

“Of course it matters!” she whispered intently, reaching out to smack his arm.

“Ow,” Killian muttered, shaking his arm slightly and making a face at her. “Jeez, what’s your problem?”

“My problem is that you absolutely buried your lede,” Aurora said. “You should have started with the ‘we kissed’ and then gone on from there.”

“Well, to be fair, the only reason we kissed is because I punched the guy.”

“She’s into that?”

Killian groaned and leaned his head against his head, trying not to ram his forehead into the wall. That probably would have been more comfortable than this conversation.

“No, A,” he said with enough force that Aurora’s leaned back slightly. “That’s not what happened. I hit him. I followed her. I tried to explain that she was important to me and then she kissed me. Or I kissed her. I don’t know, it’s kind of a blur.”

“A blur of makeout?”

“You are out of control.”

“I’m interested in your life.”

“Yuh huh,” Killian answered, not entirely convinced at all.

“So what happened?”

“I just told you.”

“No, what happened after you kissed? Or made out or whatever? Did you go up to her apartment?”

“I’m her editor, A.”

“So?”

“So,” Killian said, staring at his friend. “That’s not exactly part of the rules. You’re not supposed to make out with your staff writers on the sidewalk.”

“On the sidewalk?!”

“You’re going to wake up Samantha again,” Killian pointed out. Aurora glanced over her shoulder at the once-again sleeping baby and waved her hand dismissively at Killian.

“This whole thing happened on the sidewalk?”

“I punched him in front of the Garden.”

“Jeez,” Aurora sighed. “You really are an idiot.”

“I know,” Killian admitted. “I just couldn’t let that guy talk to her like that. He was telling her how worthless her work was and how unimportant it was.”

“What a dick.”

“Exactly,” he agreed. “And I don’t know, I guess I kind of lost my mind. I hit him and Swan freaked out and Neal just left. But she needed to know, after the last few weeks especially, she’s doing a good job. She’s an incredible writer and, well, she’s...”

He trailed off slowly – he was standing now, he wasn’t sure when that happened – and looked down to find Aurora staring at him, smiling.

“She’s what?” she prompted.

“Nothing.”

“You’re an idiot. A lying idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.”

“He couldn’t say that to her.”

“You going to tell her you love later tonight or like next week while you’re at work?”

Killian bit his tongue, glaring at Aurora and doing his best not to yell – he didn’t want to wake the baby again. “What are you talking about?” he whispered, voice sharp even to his own ears.

“Are you listening to yourself?” Aurora laughed, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her head on her knees, an amused smile on her face. “You are so far in on this, Killian. Straight into the deep end and you are barely treading water.”

She chuckled softly and shook her head, almost as if she couldn’t believe what she had just said. Killian couldn’t believe it either.

“That’s not true,” he mumbled, not even trying to sound confident.

Aurora just raised her eyebrows at him.

“Ok,” he amended. “So maybe not entirely wrong either.”

“What are you going to do?”

He had absolutely no idea.

Emma Swan had barreled into his life – quite literally – and taken over completely in the span of only a few months.

She was impossible.

And slightly infuriating. And a bit demanding.

But she was also confident and talented and the only person in the last five years who had been willing and able to meet him beat for beat.

It was impressive.

It also scared the shit out of him.

Because he hadn’t been lying before – Emma Swan was important to him, incredibly important, and he would have punched Neal whatever ten more times in the face to prove it. Or he could have kissed her some more.

He definitely should have kissed her some more.

Aurora made an impatient noise in the back of her throat and Killian rolled his eyes at her. Then he shrugged. That only seemed to make her even more annoyed.

“That’s not an answer,” she pointed out.

“That’s because I don’t have one.”

“Was it a good make out at least?”

“A!” he said sharply, shaking his head. “You’re not 17. What kind of question is that even?”

“A legitimate one from someone who hasn’t seen the outside world in several weeks.”

“You have a baby.”

“And surprisingly enough that doesn’t stop me from being a person,” Aurora argued, earning a smile from Killian in the process. “So answer the question Jones. Good make out session?”

He groaned, but nodded slowly – that was as much as she was getting out of him. Aurora practically cackled.

“You have to see her on Monday,” she pointed out.

“I do.”

“What are you going to say?”

“That question’s bordering dangerously close to being the same thing as asking me what I’m going to do. Same answer. I have absolutely no idea.”

“What do you think she’s going to do?”

“She’s terrified,” Killian said easily. “She’s not going to do anything.”

“Terrified?” Aurora repeated, laughing openly now. “Of you? Why are you so scary?”

“She’s just not very good at trusting.”

“She doesn’t trust you? Didn’t look like that before.”

“You met her what, A, twice? And once after you had literally just had a baby?”

“She was there because you brought her.”

Killian sighed. “Doesn’t mean you know her.”

Aurora looked at him and Killian got the distinct impression that she was forming some kind of incredibly pointed opinion. He wasn’t sure he was going to like it.

“And you do?” she asked.

“That’s a work in progress.”

“And you want it to be?”

“I don’t know, A,” Killian said slowly, doing his best to keep his voice in check. He paused between every word, practically making each one its own sentence, and, hoping, that he would get his point across.

He didn’t have an answer.

He wished Aurora would drop it. He knew she wouldn’t.

Killian leaned back against the couch, resting his head back against the wall and rubbing his hand. Aurora made a vaguely ridiculous noise.

“Stop that,” she said sharply and Killian’s right hand practically flew back to his side.  “This is different,” she said quickly.

“From?”

“Everything else.”

“That’s awfully vague, A.”

“That’s because you’re not really telling me anything,” Aurora said flippantly. “But I know you. I might not know Emma, but I know you and you are all in on this.”

Killian widened his eyes and tried to take a deep breath.

He should have just gone home.

He shouldn’t have come here. Hell, he lived five blocks away from Emma, there was no point in getting back on the train to come back uptown.

But he needed someone to talk to and, right now, the only person to talk to was Aurora.

And she was right.

“I’m going to take your silence as confirmation,” Aurora said.

“That journalistic integrity is incredible, A. Really taking that source and running with it.”

“Shut up. Why are you so worried about this?”

“It’s a big deal, A,” Killian said without thinking about it.

“Is it?”

“She’s important,” he sighed.

“You care,” Aurora said.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“You don’t think she does?”

Killian shrugged again and bit back another sigh. “I hope,” he said softly.

“That’s rare,” Aurora said, just as softly and there was a small smile on her face.

“Like I said, it’s a work in progress.”

“Hey,” she continued, leaning forward to grip Killian’s forearm. He raised his eyebrows and Aurora made a face at him. “You know you’re allowed to hope, right? This is different.”

“I feel like you’re going somewhere specific with this. Spit it out, A.”

“You might not like it.”

“You say plenty of stuff I don’t like,” Killian said and Aurora glared at him, squeezing his arm in the process. “But I listen to you anyway. Say it.”

Aurora took an overly dramatic breath and narrowed her eyes at Killian before talking. “Emma isn’t Milah,” she said, rushing over the words like she was hoping they wouldn’t hurt as much if she said them fast.

“You were right.”

“About?”

“It wasn’t something I liked.”

Aurora squeezed his arm again. “I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” Killian said. “But we are so far away from comparing either one of those things that they’re not even in the same country.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And we’ve come full circle,” he laughed.

“I’m serious,” Aurora whined. “You are the biggest idiot. You just told me you care and you punched her boyfriend to defend her honor and then you made out on the sidewalk. And! You don’t know what you’re going to do when you see her next. You’re a walking, talking cliche, Killian. You are practically drowning in how much you want this.”

Killian knew his eyes were wide, knew his mouth was hanging open slightly, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to move. Aurora just looked particularly pleased with herself.

“It’s ok to want stuff,” she continued quietly.

“It’s not just my decision, A.”

“I’m not saying that. I’m telling you that in the two times I have seen you with Emma Swan – post-birth included – she looked at you like you were the most interesting thing she had ever seen. She wants you just as much as you want her. I know it.”

“Relationship expert now, huh?” Killian laughed.

“Absolutely.”

“It doesn’t feel like it did with Milah,” he said softly. He heard Aurora gasp slightly and he glanced up to find her staring at him like she had never seen him before. “You’re right, you know, this is different.”

“You going to worry about the non-rules of wanting to date one of your staff writers?”

“I’m going to let her figure it out,” Killian said, mind very suddenly made up.

That happened a lot quicker than he thought it would.

He would let Emma decide.

He wouldn’t push.

He wouldn’t kiss her again – as much as he may want to – and he’d be her friend.

He could be her friend.

Maybe.

“Gentleman,” Aurora accused fondly, shaking her head. “An idiot, but a gentleman.”

“Always.”

“You’re going to have to talk to her eventually, you know.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“It’ll probably be weird.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Just do me a favor, ok?”

“What’s that?”  
  
“Be happy.”  
  
“That’s a work in progress,” Killian said, squeezing Aurora’s hand and smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

He could barely keep his eyes open.

He was going to fall asleep in a corner booth of Granny’s with a plate of onion rings in front of him. He’d probably get his suit dirty.

When he, inevitably, fell asleep at this table.

Killian closed his eyes, blinking quickly several times and hoping against hope that he would, somehow, find a way to stay awake.

He hadn’t really slept the night before.

He probably should have. Emma had.

She’d grumbled about it – and he _absolutely_ , _positively_ would not spend the majority of the day thinking about that, about the way her fingers had moved down the line of his shirt or the way her lips ticked down when he’d muttered _you should probably get some sleep_ – but it had taken all of two and a half minutes before her breathing had evened out.

It took him...more than two and a half minutes.

Several hours.

Or maybe most of the night.

And there were probably bags under his eyes and Killian was half convinced he was closing in on some sort of world record for coffee consumption before noon, but he’d _absolutely_ , _positively_ do it the again.

If it meant waking up with Emma curled against his side and an arm splayed over his stomach, then he’d be willing to forgo sleep for the rest of his life entirely.

He had, clearly, lost his mind.

It was probably because he was so sleep deprived.

“Man, you absolutely downed that,” Ruby said, appearing in front of the table with a freshly brewed pot of coffee in one hand and the other on her hip and a knowing smile on her face. “Lots of late-breaking news last night?”  
  
Killian’s elbow slid off the table, hitting against his side and he winced slightly when Ruby, somehow, lifted her eyebrows even more.

“Oh my God, Rubes,” David sighed, pushing his own empty coffee mug towards the waitress. “At least pretend like you have some tact.”  
  
“I don’t,” Ruby said. She smiled at Killian and he considered all the ways he could, possibly, sink into the corner of the slightly worn plastic this booth was made out of. “Although you do look kind of tired.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Killian argued quickly, far too quickly to pass off as anything except the lie it was.

“Yeah, you look it,” David laughed. He propped his feet up on underneath the table, not even bothering to try and avoid the side of Killian’s leg.

Ruby hooked her own foot around one of the chairs from a nearby table, sinking onto even more worn plastic and she’d left the coffee pot behind her. “Bring that with you,” Killian muttered, nodding towards the still-steaming pot and he wasn’t sure when he actually started to feel almost comfortable in Storybrooke.

Probably at the docks.

No, definitely at the docks. The moment he told her about Liam and there was something about the water and sound or the lack of sound and Killian couldn’t remember the last time he’d breathed that easy.

Or the last time he _hadn’t_ breathed that easily, oxygen intake suffering just a bit as soon as Emma’s lips were on his.

God, he was exhausted.

And he could feel David staring at him, eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch as he gazed at Killian over the top of his recently-refilled coffee mug. Ruby’s eyes kept moving back and forth – staring at each of them in turn, like she was watching a particularly entertaining tennis match – and it sounded like a boulder hit the floor when she slammed her heel against it, uncrossing her legs and sitting up just a little straighter.

“You know, you’re the talk of the entire town,” she said, staring straight at Killian.

“Yuh huh,” he answered, a noncommittal agreement that only seemed to frustrate the other two people at the table.

“Emma didn’t tell anyone you were coming.”  
  
“I'm aware of that also.”  
  
“Why do you think that is?”

David nearly dropped his mug and choked on his coffee and his feet landed back on the laminate flooring quickly, head snapping up as he stared at Ruby with wide, disbelieving eyes. She shrugged.

“And,” Ruby pressed on, seemingly undeterred by anything at this point, including whatever noise Granny was making behind the counter. She waved her hand over her shoulder, gaze never leaving Killian and he could feel his face getting warmer by the second. “If memory serves, that was the first time she’s been spotted down at the docks.”  
  
“Why is that something you know?” Killian asked, twisting around in the booth and swinging his legs up across the padded seat.

Ruby’s smile widened and she made a noise in the back of her throat – it wasn’t really an answer. “It’s a small town,” she said. “People talk.”  
  
“Like you? Currently?”  
  
“There’s no one else in here.”  
  
“Your grandmother is here. And she sounds fairly insistent that you come talk to her.”  
  
“You know, new guy, I’m getting the distinct impression you’re trying to get rid of me.”  
  
“Would I do that?”  
  
“You tell me.”  
  
Killian shook his head. “I’m just here because Swan asked me to be here,” he mumbled, far too aware that he wasn’t making a particularly strong case for not being head over heels in love with Emma Swan. “That’s it.”  
  
“Yuh huh,” Ruby said, echoing his not-quite-response response from just a few minutes before. It felt longer. This might be the longest conversation in the history of the world.

And Granny was still making that noise from behind the counter, the sound practically ricocheting off the walls of the otherwise empty diner.

Storybrooke, it seemed, appeared to have shut down completely for this wedding.

Or, at least, shut down enough that they could all come together in some banquet hall and talk about Killian and Emma’s relationship. Is that what it was? It had to be, right? Sure. He’d told her about Liam. He’d told her about Milah.

They made out in the _woods_ – and the docks and her bedroom and that small patch of sidewalk just outside the banquet hall.

No wonder the entire town was talking.

“You seem unconvinced,” Killian said, nodding towards Ruby’s crossed arms like he was pointing out something earth-shattering.

Maybe. If he was actually in a relationship.

He was far too tired for this conversation.

Ruby twisted her lips and her body, tightening her arms and recrossing her legs as she balanced on the edge of the chair she was still sitting in. And David might have been a statue carved entirely out of stone for everything he’d contributed to this conversation.

“I don’t know what to think of you, new guy,” Ruby said and Killian wondered when they’d landed on _that_ particular nickname. He wasn’t entirely certainly he liked it. “You show up like some kind of wonder and you know I heard you carried her luggage off the train?”  
  
Killian nodded, not sure what to actually say to something like that. It didn’t seem to matter – Ruby wasn’t even close to being done yet.

“And another thing, new guy,” she continued, pulling the chair closer to the edge of the table until her knees were nearly brushing up against his still-outstretched feet. “How come you didn’t ask for my help when it came to coming up with that great, big romantic extravaganza you planned the other day?”

David moved – choking on coffee again and slumping forward a bit in his seat, resting his forearms on the table. He stared at Ruby like he’d never seen her before and Granny had, finally, moved from behind the counter.

That seemed like a step in the right direction – the direction being this conversation ending. And maybe getting more coffee.

“Well, it’s true,” Ruby muttered, pushing her hair behind her ears with more drama than Killian was aware existed in the entire world. “Explanation.”  
  
“What kind of explanation could there be?” Killian asked. He glanced at David, not quite sure what kind of support he was looking for, but certain he wasn’t going to get any – not when he was pressed into the corner of the booth, desperately trying to avoid Ruby’s critical glare.

“I heard it went well,” Granny said, appearing next to Ruby as quickly as if she’d teleported there. “C’mon Ruby, leave the poor boy alone.”  
  
Killian’s eyes widened and for half a moment he actually forgot that he was exhausted and he’d run out of coffee – stunned silent at the idea of being a _poor boy_ or even a _boy_ in general. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had called him that.

And, well, that was a bit too depressing to spend too long lingering on.

Ruby heaved a dramatic sigh, twisting her lips and shaking her hair back over her shoulders. Granny tapped on her shoulder impatiently, throwing what Killian assumed was a supportive smile – and maybe a wink – his direction before making her way back to the counter, Ruby’s heels echoing in her wake.

Killian took a deep breath, running a hand over his face and he hoped he didn’t look quite as exhausted as he felt.

“She took the coffee,” David muttered under his breath, rolling his head onto his shoulder.

“Of course she did,” Killian answered and he tried not to actually groan out the words. Or maybe yawn them out.

He hadn’t really gotten a ton of sleep.

David seemed to realize that, eyes narrowing slightly and Killian could practically see the metaphorical light bulb go off over his head.

“Should I be worried about you?” David asked, like those words were supposed to make sense in that particular order.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Killian said honestly. He sat up a bit straighter, pushing his hand through his hair and trying to make sure the chain around his neck didn’t inadvertently strangle him when he moved.

Emma’s hand had moved over it the night before, shifting slightly in her sleep and her fingers had hit the band and the chain and the links had pressed against his skin and Killian knew, right then, he wasn’t going to get any sleep.

And that he might be hopelessly all in on this. Aurora was going to be very frustrating about that.

She probably already knew.

Killian definitely already knew – had known for months, known weeks before she’d asked him to come with her to Maine _as friends_ , known, probably, as soon as she’d explained the bar tradition and David had toasted her in the back corner of that dimly lit room.

Jeez.

“I’m serious,” David continued, apparently unaware of whatever mental breakdown Killian was staging in the corner of one of the booths in Granny’s restaurant. “I mean you show up at my house, which, how did you even figure that out by the way?”  
  
“Is that what you’re worried about?” Killian asked and he appreciated David’s soft groan of indignation more than he probably should have.

“God, you’re infuriating, you know that?”  
  
“You know, something, I think I’m growing on you.”  
  
David rolled his eyes, leaning around the corner of the booth to shout at Ruby about the distinct lack of coffee at their table. Killian wasn’t really sure of the specifics – wasn’t even certain they were _supposed_ to be in Granny’s at the moment, but David had shown up at Emma’s house that morning with a plan and the plan, apparently, included Granny’s.

It also appeared Granny’s was the only place open in the entire village of Storybrooke.

“How’d you find my house?” David asked again. Ruby, of course, had appeared at precisely that moment, freshly brewed pot of coffee in her hand and something that looked like curiosity carved onto every single inch of her face.

“Elsa,” Killian said. “As soon as I decided where we were going.”  
  
“I can’t believe you took her to Bella Notte,” Ruby muttered, but Killian thought he heard something a bit wistful in her tone. “That’s just like other levels of cliche.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure she liked it.”  
  
“Oh I’ve got no doubt.”  
  
Granny shouted something again and David hadn’t blinked in days, staring straight ahead even after Ruby left. She left the coffee pot that time.

Killian just tried not to actually yawn in anyone’s face.

“You look tired,” David observed, twisting his tie until the knot was half done.

“You’re just going to have re-tie that,” Killian pointed out. David shrugged, undoing the top button of his collar as well and this wedding had to be happening soon.

He hoped this wedding would happen soon.

“So you asked Elsa about what to do then?” David continued and Killian got the distinct impression he was working his way down some sort of question list. He probably wrote it out. Killian made a mental note to remember to tell Emma that – if only to see how long she made fun of David for – but then remembered the thin ice they were skating or the fine line they were walking or whatever metaphor worked for whatever situation they were currently in.

No one had actually said relationship.

And they had to go back to New York the next day.

“I did,” Killian said, realizing he hadn’t actually answered when David coughed pointedly from the other side of the table. “Strangely enough it’s tough to plan things when you’re not certain where anything is in a town.”  
  
“But you asked to plan the date, I heard you.”

“Eavesdropping, then?”  
  
“Neither one of you was really trying to hide the conversation. I mean Emma did a bit of barging in here.”  
  
“I wouldn’t tell her that’s what you called it.”  
  
David laughed, dragging his thumb around the curve of the coffee mug sitting in front of him. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”  
  
“I’m still not certain where you’re going with this,” Killian said and it felt a bit like admitting to grand larceny.

“I’m just saying. You borrowed my mom’s car, you asked Elsa about stuff, you look like you haven’t gotten any sleep in the last couple of days. I don’t know. I’m just putting two and two together.”  
  
“And coming up with five.”  
  
“What?”

Killian groaned – ignoring the way Ruby’s eyes seemed to light up at the sound – and did his best to ignore the impulse to rub the back of his left hand. He tapped his fingers on the table instead, humming slightly while he tried to figure out what exactly to say.

“No,” he said and that wasn’t really an explanation.

“No,” David repeated, making the word sound like a question and an explanation all at the same time. “I don’t get it.”

“God, you’re dense.”  
  
“I let you borrow my mom’s car!”  
  
“Your mom let me borrow her car and it was returned in pristine condition with all of her radio presets in tact.”

“She did appreciate that,” David mumbled grudgingly and Killian smiled before he could stop himself.

“Good. And I appreciate the car.”

David hummed in the back of his throat and the metaphorical gears in his head nearly made audible noise in the middle of the otherwise abandoned diner. The tie was a lost cause completely now, simply hanging around his neck with one side dragging longer than the other. It almost made Killian nervous.

Almost.

He was trying to avoid that train of thought too.

“I’d like to come up with another question other than whether or not I should be worried about you,” David said slowly, staring at his hands and he kept trying to crack his knuckles. “But I can’t think of any other words so I’ll ask you again. Should I be worried about you?”  
  
Killian lowered one eyebrow. “Probably not,” he answered and it sounded a bit like a question.  
  
Goddamnit.

“See, that didn’t sound very convincing.”  
  
“Is this some sort of weird, if you hurt her, I’ll kill you type of thing?”  
  
“No,” David said, visibly trying to hold in the laughter threatening at the back of his voice. It didn’t really work. “The opposite in fact.”  
  
“Wait, what?”  
  
“Well, no I take that back. Because I will absolutely kill you if you do anything even remotely stupid and I know people who can make that all look like an accident. And then, for good measure, Mary Margaret will probably dig you up out of whatever grave you’re in and kill you for good measure as well.”  
  
Killian’s laugh was shaky at best, but he was mostly impressed and he couldn’t quite remember the last time anyone had threatened him in defense of someone else’s honor. It felt a bit antiquated and ancient and it almost made sense in this tiny town where everything shut down when one person got married.

“Noted,” Killian said. “And good.”  
  
“Good?”  
  
He nodded, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, and David was staring more intently than he had the entire morning – and there’d been a lot of staring.

“Emma deserves to have people who care about her like that,” Killian said softly, wincing slightly when he heard a crash from the direction of the counter.

“Sorry, sorry,” Ruby muttered and her voice came without the presence of a visible body, crouched over whatever it was she had dropped.

Granny nearly knocked the door off its hinges when she came out of the kitchen, moving far quicker than her gray hair would have suggested she was capable of, but she didn’t quite sigh when she saw the mess behind the counter. She just looked at Killian and David and nodded once.

It almost felt a bit like approval.

“Listen,” Killian said sharply. “There’s no need for the threats, as well intentioned as they might be. It’s not something you really need to worry about.”

Ruby made some sort of noise that sounded a bit like _ooooh_ and David hissed in a breath of air, shaking his head before Killian had even finished his point.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. Because while my addition might not be getting me to five quite yet, and I understood what you were saying, so don’t make that face, we’re almost there and I couldn’t tell you the last time that happened.”  
  
“You’re still not making much sense.”  
  
“Then let me finish.” Killian felt his lips tick down – impressed finding its way onto his features and David huffed out the air he’d just breathed in a few moments before. “Emma is happy. And you’re exhausted, obviously, which I’m trying not to think about or apply mathematical metaphors to, but you’re here and and you didn’t mess up the presets and that means...something. So I am asking, well, no, I’m telling you. Don’t mess this up because Emma might be happy, but she’s also a bit terrified.”

And that might have been part of the reason he hadn’t fallen asleep in the first place.  

Killian was in, all in, in some sort of slightly overwhelming, vaguely terrifying way that he’d been certain of since the rum and the _Storybrooke Mirror_ and he’d tried to prove it – in a way that was just a bit juvenile and almost as overwhelming – with a date and being in Storybrooke and making sure they didn’t rush into anything.

He wanted to.  
  
He wanted to dive in and maybe drown a little bit and he’d lost control of this metaphor completely.

“I know that,” Killian muttered, downing the rest of his coffee. It had gone cold. There was another metaphor in there. “But here’s the thing, this isn’t just some sort of _thing_. Whatever we become, it’s up to her as much as it is me.”

David didn’t say anything and for one vaguely crazy, sleep-deprived moment Killian was concerned the entire diner had actually frozen. And then David nodded slowly, smile inching across his face and Ruby was standing up again, pushing her arms into her coat as Granny ushered them towards the door.

“You can stay new guy,” Ruby said. “And make sure you get Emma to dance later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while pointedly ignoring all the basketball I was supposed to be watching. I am the best professional. As always, thank yo for every click, comment and kudos. You all are fantastic and make ignoring basketball worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

His phone was buzzing. 

He didn’t move. 

He should probably move at some point. Get off the couch. Fix that crick in his spine. 

He didn’t. And his phone stopped buzzing. 

Killian rolled his head to the side and glared at it – like the few pieces of metal and technology and  _ whatever _ had, somehow, offended him. It kind of had. It wouldn't shut up. 

Although, some vaguely rational and incredibly frustrating voice in the back of his mind reminded him, if the phone stopped buzzing then his apartment would get very, very quiet and that would leave him with just...him. 

Who, apparently, was not much of anything. 

Jeez. That was a little much. Melodramatic idiot. 

A melodramatic idiot who hadn’t moved off his couch in the last eight hours and hadn’t stopped thinking, despite the noise coming from his phone. It started buzzing again. 

Killian sighed loudly, swinging his feet back onto the floor and realizing belatedly he hadn’t ever taken his shoes off. 

Maybe he should call Aurora. 

Or….there wasn’t anyone else. Well, that was depressing. 

The phone made noise again, nearly vibrating off the edge of the coffee table in front of him and he groaned when he lunged forward quickly to make sure it didn’t land on the ground. The last thing he needed was his phone breaking. 

He should probably answer the several hundred e-mails he had. Or maybe go to work. He probably wasn’t going to work. 

That voice in the back of his mind nearly shouted  _ coward _ at him. 

There were a dozen text messages and more e-mails than he’d really been prepared for, but he didn’t look at any of them, eyes landing on the name that kept popping up in his inbox – a string of questions and hopes and concerns about the status of the New York Yankees designated hitter problem. 

Henry. 

Shit. 

_ Did you watch that game last night? The guy is swinging at ball four in the dirt in the bottom of the eighth. Idiot _ . 

_ Oh you’re not in New York, are you? Ah, well, don’t watch that game. It was awful.  _

_ At least they get to play the Sox soon. Maybe they’ll sweep them and things will be right with the world.  _

Killian laughed and then he nearly dropped his phone again. 

That might have been the first sound he’d made – barring the occasional groan or overly dramatic sigh – since practically falling into his apartment the night before, his conversation with Emma playing in front of his eyes like some sort of horrible broken record. 

He’d known something was wrong the moment he woke up – could hear her talking to Elsa even down the stairs and around the corner, the anxious note of her voice and the way she nearly jumped out of her skin the minute his fingers hit hers. 

He hadn’t been lying. He knew she was running, had been worried about it as soon as the invitation to Storybrooke was out of her mouth that, one morning, she’d wake up and, suddenly, realize what was going on. 

And for a moment he was certain  _ maybe _ that moment wouldn’t come. 

The second she kissed him – or maybe he kissed her – desperately trying to make sure they didn’t get ice cream on each other’s clothes. 

He thought maybe she wouldn’t run. 

She did. 

And he’d gotten mad and yelled and she’d yelled back and Mary Margaret and David had tried to play parents, like this was something that made any sense. 

It didn’t. Emma had to know he wouldn’t go anywhere, didn’t she? Apparently not. 

Killian’s phone buzzed again in his hand and his eyes snapped down to another message from Henry, followed shortly by another from Will Scarlet. 

_ How come you didn’t tell me Gardner was going on 15-day?! He’s the only one in that lineup that can hit at all! _

**_Just wondering what time you’re coming in Cap. We’ve got a ton of box scores to get through and Victor wants to talk about some summer league story he’s doing._ **

Killian’s stomach clenched and he pressed his lips together tightly until his teeth were digging into them, threatening to draw blood. He ignored Will. 

He couldn’t do that right now. 

He couldn’t think about that right now. 

Coward. He didn’t even need the voice then. He knew what he was doing. 

Killian clicked back on Henry’s message and started typing out a reply, fingers flying over the screen with a quickness that belied the fact that he’d been wallowing on his couch for the better part of the night. 

**That’s not part of my job description. You don’t get inside info, just because I know you, kid. And I wasn’t there this weekend. So I didn’t even know about Gardner until you just so pleasantly informed me. Also, I’d lower my hopes on the Sox series. Especially if Gardner is out.**

_ Aren’t you supposed to, like, check your phone? You’re in charge. _

**I get days off.**

He cringed at the message, something that felt a bit like an entire wad of anxiety sitting in the middle of his throat. He didn’t have to be an ass to Henry. 

**And the service was kind of spotty all weekend. So I was kind of out of touch. Thanks for the updates.**

Henry didn’t answer for what felt like an eternity and Killian resisted the urge to sink back into the couch, certain he’d, somehow, managed to mess something else up. 

_ It’s a calf strain. Apparently. That’s what it said in the paper this morning _ . 

**You’re reading the paper now?  
** **  
** _ Yeah, well, I figured if you and Emma were there, it was worth something. And you guys really do get good stories. ESPN credited your Gardner scoop. They said other sources, but whatever. I knew it was you _ . 

The wad of anxiety disappeared and was replaced with something that felt a bit like emotion – the good kind. The kind that made Killian proud of what they were doing at  _ The Record _ and in sports and maybe...him. 

Maybe he was doing something good. 

**What are you doing on Friday?**

_ It’s August. Literally nothing _ . 

**You don’t have to work?  
** **  
** _ Oh, yeah, that _ . 

Killian chuckled again, toeing out of his shoes and kicking them into the corner of the room near the bag he’d never actually moved or unpacked. 

**Yeah, that. Mary Margaret wouldn’t appreciate if you just didn’t show. But what about after? When are you done?**

_ Usually around 3:30.  _

**Well, I’m back now and I’ve got some time on Friday and there’s probably a cage free. What do you say to a bit of hitting?**

__ What? For real?  
  
**Why would I lie about that?**

_ I have no idea. _

**I’m not.**

_ You don’t have to do...editor things? _

**What exactly are editor things.?**

_ I have no idea about that either.  _

Sometimes Killian forgot Henry was a teenager. Sometimes he forgot what it was to be a teenager who just  _ wanted _ something, without any strings attached, just baseball and the cages and Henry was, maybe, just a little bit terrified that he’d never get what he wanted. 

Well, he thought, seriously, fuck that. 

Henry wasn’t just going to get what he wanted, he was going to get time at the cages and then he was going to get back on this high school baseball team and go to college and play for the goddamn New York Yankees. 

And Killian was, suddenly, more determined than he could remember being in quite some time. 

**I have no editor things. And if I did this is more important. Come over when you’re done with work. We’ll get a cage and you can hit until you can’t swing anymore.**

_ That might take some time.  _

Killian smiled. Confidence. Good.  **That’s ok. I’ve got time.**

_ I haven’t hit since we did before you guys went away _ . 

There went the smile – a mixture of Henry’s inability to get into cages without Killian’s Piers connections and the idea that going to Storybrooke was some sort of vacation and not a painful smack in the face, all converging at once to take up residence in the pit of his stomach. He sank back against the cushions of his couch, head hitting painfully against the wall and his phone made noise. 

_ But, yeah, that would be really cool. If you can get away from work. I’d love to hit.  _

**I can get away. Four work for you?**

_ Yeah, yeah, that’s easy. Can we ask Emma too?  _

He was an idiot. He hadn’t really thought about it. Well, no, that was a lie. He’d thought about nothing else for the last eight hours – refusing to move an inch for want of thinking about it and her and that conversation in the middle of Penn Station. 

And it was her story. 

She probably needed quotes. He  _ knew _ she needed quotes. She was going to start writing after they got back from the wedding and he wasn’t sure why he’d been under some strange impression that was, somehow, going to change now. 

Probably because everything had changed now. 

He’d never answered Henry. 

**I’ll take care of it. You just worry about keeping your wrists tight when you swing.**

Killian could practically hear the dramatic sigh when he read the answering text message.  _ Ok that’s not even true. My wrists are fine _ . 

**Your wrists are wobbly. At best. Hold your wrists tighter and you’ll hit .450 this season.**

__ That’s not possible.   
  
**It would be if you’d tighten your wrists.**

There was probably another groan, but Killian was nothing if not stubborn, particularly when he wanted something. And he wanted this for Henry. 

_ Whatever.  _

**Four o’clock. Friday. Tight wrists.**

_ Deal.  _ It took a few moments for the follow up and Killian wondered if Henry had thought about it.  _ Thanks. For all of this _ . 

**No problem.**

He got off the couch. And that felt like a bit of a miracle, but Killian figured if Henry could find a way to believe they’d make this work and actually  _ thank him _ for being a somewhat decent person, he could at least get off the couch and shower and get ready for work. 

He’d be late, but he’d go. 

That felt like a bit of a victory. 

Killian didn’t really try to  _ rush  _ through anything, but he heard his phone buzz again when he walked back into his room later, hair still damp from the shower he’d finally taken. He tugged a t-shirt over his head, glancing at the thing when it kept making noise and nearly sprinted towards it when it went off a third time. 

It was Scarlet. 

**_Cap. I know you were late getting in yesterday, but I just wanted to know what time you were getting here. Not work stuff. Victor’s calmed down overnight._ **

**_Ok, seriously you need to call me. Or show up for work._ **

**_This is not about the paper. Emma’s here, or at least just got here, and, well, she’s got this look on her face. Like she’s going to explode._ **

**_She said she didn’t know where you were._ **

Killian sank onto the end of the bed, right hand gripping his phone and left trained at his side so he didn’t do something absurd like stare at the scars on his skin and question every single decision he’d ever made in his life. 

It didn’t really work. 

Because he might be just as determined as ever to make sure this  _ worked _ for Henry and even for whatever scoop the paper would get out of it, but he couldn’t pretend like the last weekend hadn’t happened. 

And he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t as in love with Emma Swan as he’d been since she’d run him over in the hallway. 

He wasn’t going to go to work. 

Coward. 

He thought it every time he took a drink for the rest of the afternoon. 

Of course, it didn’t matter how much he drank or how much he avoided that giant building and the almost absurd amount of e-mails he got. He still had to go back to work and he’d found himself walking there without even realizing it, feet moving up Eighth Avenue with practiced ease. 

It hadn’t been the plan, so of course Emma had been there. Of course she’d been reading his book and sitting in the darkroom and the look on her face when he’d opened the door nearly sent shockwaves down his spine.

He’d thought about it for the rest of the week. 

He’d thought about that talk all week – another  _ talk _ and another set of reasons why this wouldn’t work and he’d gone to work every day, but he’d polished off an entire bottle of rum in his apartment as well. 

It was all about give and take. Or something. Liam probably would have been disappointed. 

And time kept moving and Emma brought him coffee and asked if he wanted to skip out on the Piers, that nervous edge in her voice doing something very specific to his lungs' ability to function consistently. 

Of course he wanted to go. 

He wanted  _ her _ to go. Maybe he was a masochistic, but he just wanted her to stop looking like that, ducking her eyes whenever he moved more than half an inch closer to her and actually stopping at Lisa’s desk before she barreled into his office. 

She knew everything and Killian still wanted her around. 

They’d been there for almost an hour before Emma got there, Henry muttering that the doctors had cleared him to start running earlier that week. 

“You want to run then?” Killian asked and Henry’s eyes widened slightly. 

“What?”  
  
“I mean if the doctors said it was ok.”  
  
“They did.”  
  
“So, yeah, then?” Henry twisted his lips and scuffed his foot along the turf. “What?” Killian continued, nodding his head to get in the teenager’s eyeline. “You don’t have to run if you don’t want to.”  
  
“No, no, I was just wondering if we could practice stealing.”  
  
“Stealing? Like bases?”  
  
Henry nodded. He still hadn’t looked up. “It’s just...I got hurt stealing and when I came to the paper that first time you asked who taught me how to steal and, well, the answer is no one. That’s why I’m so bad at it.”

Killian crossed his arms and felt the smile creep across his face. It  _ almost _ didn’t feel entirely out of place. “Sure,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound too eager. “We can steal some stuff.”

God, that kid was fast. 

Killian was certain his eyes fell out of their sockets as soon as Henry moved, dimly aware of Emma’s eyes on them and the more-than-appropriate co-worker distance she kept from the tiny spot of turf they’d claimed as their own.

This was going to work. They just had to Henry back on the field. 

“How was that?” Henry asked when he finished another sprint, chest heaving just a bit when he dropped onto the ground. 

“Good, really good,” Killian promised, not even trying to mask how impressed he was. “What did you think, Swan?”

She looked surprised – eyes going wide and mouth dropping open and she must have just come from the office because she was still wearing a dress. He tried not to rub his left hand. 

“It was good,” Emma said quickly, but he could hear her voice shake on the words. “You’re absurdly fast, Henry.”

He didn’t even bother getting up to answer. “I’ve always been fast,” he said, laying flat on his back with one leg crossed over the other. Killian tried not to roll his eyes. “I was worried the ACL would mess it up, but it seems ok.”  
  
“Looks perfect to me,” Emma continued. 

“You think?”  
  
She hummed and Killian was tapping out some sort of rhythm on his thigh. He wanted to move. Every single muscle in his body wanted him to take a step towards her and grab her hand or sling his arm around her shoulder, to tug him up against his side and promise, again, that this could work. 

They could work. Together. 

He didn’t do any of that. They had a story to save. 

“I do,” Emma added. “And if Killian said you were good, then you must be. He knows what he’s talking about.”  
  
His stomach flipped like he was thirteen years old and the girl he had a crush on just told him she’d like to hang out. Kind of. The woman he loved thought he knew what he was doing. That was, somehow, better and worse. 

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Swan,” he said and he couldn’t stop himself from moving if he tried. 

“You hit yet?”

“Nah, figured we’d try something different before we started repeating ourselves."   
  
Emma smiled and his stomach was just being ridiculous at that point. “You going to make Killian hit, Henry?” she asked. “I heard you were making a pretty good argument.”  
  
It felt like getting doused in ice water. Or falling into ice water. It definitely felt like falling and a bit like drowning and he couldn’t really breathe. 

Emma’s smile wavered and Killian knew she could read the look on his face, certain he looked every bit as terrified as he was. 

“He said he doesn’t want to,” Henry replied a bit sullenly. Killian bit his lip and the fingers on his right hand traced over one of the scars, stare boring a hole into the turf. 

“What? Why?” Emma asked and Killian got the very strong impression they were waging some sort of  _ something _ right there in the middle of Chelsea Piers 

“It’s not a good time, Swan.”  
  
“Why?”

“Yeah, Killian,” Henry implored, pushing up off the turf and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he stared at him. “C’mon you promised. You said you could hit when you played.”  
  
“He could hit,” Emma said, eyebrows raised like she was challenging him to disagree. 

“Swan,” he sighed and he could feel his shoulders slump. Emma didn’t blink. She didn’t move – closer or farther away – just kept staring at him and waiting for him to take back a bit of control of his life. 

“What?”  
  
“Let Henry hit, it’s for him.”  
  
Henry groaned, rolling his eyes. “I can hit later. Just go one round.”

Killian met Emma’s gaze and there was something in her eyes that seemed to cause something to audibly snap in the back of his mind. “Fine, fine” he muttered, taking a step towards the cage and grabbing a bat as he moved.   
  
He slammed the door closed behind him, nearly breaking the goddamn machine with the force of his hand against the start button. 

“Aren’t you going to wear a helmet?” Emma asked. 

“I don’t need a helmet, Swan.”  
  
He couldn't’ remember the last time he hit. 

That wasn’t even a sad, melodramatic idea. Killian hadn’t touched a baseball bat in years – his date with Emma notwithstanding – and he hadn’t actually stepped into those cages at the Piers in over a decade. 

It didn’t seem to matter. 

As soon as the machine whirred to life, it was as if he was sixteen again and Liam was a few feet away and he had a whole afternoon in front of him. There was probably a scientific reason for that – muscle memory or something else that Killian wouldn’t ever entirely understand – but it didn’t matter. 

He fell into the rhythm he always did, the noise of the bat on the ball sounding like a metronome that kept reminding him of what could have been. 

Almost. 

It was always almost. 

He hit every ball and when the machine powered down, his hand was already killing him, muscles objecting to overuse and a distinct inability to do what they’d just done. 

Henry looked a little stunned. Emma just looked kind of sad. 

“You think you can teach me to hit like that?” Henry asked. 

“That’s kind of the plan,” Killian answered. “Swan?”  
  
Her head snapped up and he saw the muscles in her throat tense. “Yeah?”  
  
“We good now? No more of this?”  
  
No more feeling guilty. No more pushing. No more trying to force anything. 

“Yeah, we’re good.”

They talked about the story and if he fell into some sort of muscle-memory rhythm in the cages, then Emma did the same as soon as she started asking question, every word out of her mouth drawing details and dates and everything that would get Henry back on the field. 

Killian watched her in wonder, pulse thudding in his ears like an audible reminder of how much he loved her. 

As if he wasn’t constantly aware of that. 

The story went on forever and Emma got every fact she’d need for some kind of life-changing feature and Killian was certain she’d written half of it in her head already. 

He kept flexing his fingers, trying to work out some of that excess emotion as Henry kept talking about how much baseball meant to him and it all felt a little _too_ on point. Emma noticed. And she moved before Killian was entirely ready for it, before he’d been able to prepare himself for the feel of his hand on hers or what  _ that _ would do to the oxygen in his lungs, but as soon as he felt her fingers lace with his he seemed to take a deep breath for the first time all week. 

“Was that ok, Emma?” Henry asked eventually and Killian’s heart almost audibly cracked. 

“Better,” she said. “We’re going to make this work, Henry.”

“You think?   
  
“I know.”  
  
She was still holding his hand. Or maybe he was holding her hand. He didn’t let go, at least. 

“Why don’t you go hit, Henry?” Killian asked. 

“Right now?   
  
“If you want?   
  
“Sure!”  
  
Henry was gone half a second later, a blur of baseball excitement and determination and Killian was still holding Emma’s hand. 

“You said you weren’t going to promise him anything,” Killian said, certain it sounded like the accusation it maybe half was. 

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “I just can’t let him down.   I’m going to get him back on the field and into a school if I have to take on the entire city myself.”

He shook his head and exhaled, eyes closed lightly when he realized – she still didn’t know. That seemed impossible with his fingers twisted up in Emma’s, but she still believed she was on her own. 

“The entire city?”  
  
“If I have to.”  
  
“Not by yourself, you won’t.”  
  
“No?” Emma whispered, glancing at him with something he couldn’t quite name flashing in her eyes. He squeezed her hand. 

“No. Never.”

And maybe he wasn’t done with pushing. 

Maybe he was the biggest ass in the entire world. Emma’s face fell and she pulled her hand away from his, oblivious to the quiet sigh he’d tried to make sure she didn’t hear. 

He wanted to hit something again. 

That would just make his hand hurt. 

Killian stood up and ran his hand through his hair, trying to to take a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he said, staring at the water he could just barely make out over the wall in front of them. 

“What for?”

“Overstepping.”  
  
“You don’t have to apologize.”  
  
He turned at that, drawn by the earnestness in her voice and the tiny crease in between her eyebrows that was obvious as soon as his gaze landed on her. “Feels like I should.”  
  
“No,” Emma argued, shaking her head and pushing her hair behind her ears. She looked disappointed. “Don’t. It’s ok, Killian. We’re not very good at this.”  
  
“That’s true. Maybe we’ve both got some things to work on, huh?”

Henry hit another pitch and it might have been the loudest sound in the history of the world. Louder than his phone. “Probably,” Emma said. “But in the meantime we can still do  _ this _ , right?”  
  
“Of course,” Killian answered, promise flying out of him before he considered what he was saying. “Henry’s going to play again. We can take on the city together.”

He smiled and Emma hadn’t ever gotten off the ground, chin resting on her knees. She nodded once, and held out her hand, something that looked like hope flitting across her face. 

Killian took it without question. 

“How’d that look?” Henry asked, blissfully ignorant to whatever was happening a few feet away from him. 

“If you don’t tighten your wrists more, I’m going to tape them straight.” He opened his mouth to yell something else, as soon as Henry missed the next pitch, but he didn’t have to. 

“Shut up,” Henry shouted. 

Emma laughed softly next to him and Killian swore the sound worked its way through every single inch of him, settling in his core like some sort of hopeful, metaphorical flame. He’d obviously lost his mind. 

“How come you don’t coach?” she asked.  

That caught him by surprise. “What?”

“Coach? Or something? You know what you’re doing. You’ve got experience. You’re clearly good at this. Why not?” 

“When would I find the time, love?”

It felt like the Earth shook a bit. Killian swallowed and Emma’s breath audibly caught in her throat and he’d been so good at it – hadn’t called her that all week, had thought it half a dozen times, but managed to catch himself before the endearment and everything it meant to  _ him _ landed in that mile-wide expanse in front of them. 

He’d gotten too comfortable here though, too used to talking and the feel of her next to him and how easily her hand fit in his. 

He loved her an absolutely ridiculous amount. 

“I don’t know,” Emma said, ignoring whatever mental breakdown Killian was having. “Just seems like something you’d enjoy.”

“Eh, I don’t know. Seems a pretty solid pathway to wallowing. Lost glory and could-have-been, should-have-been me's.”

“That’s not like you,” Emma said and her determination brought him up short. He blinked once and she stood up a bit straighter. “It’s not.”

“I have a tendency to relapse.”

If he were keeping track of all the things he  _ shouldn’t _ say, he’d be somewhere in the dozens now, he was certain. Emma sagged as soon as he’d spoken, eyes falling back towards her shoes and the sound of bat hitting ball was going to make him go crazy. 

What a mess. 

“Hey,” Killian said, taking a cautious step towards her. “We don’t do that whole pity thing, right?”

“It wasn’t pity.”

“No?” 

“No, not for you at least.” 

“I don’t want you to feel bad.” 

“It’s way too late for that.”

Killian squeezed his eyes shut and fought off everything on the tip of his tongue, the promises of what could have been and how long he would have stayed and how much he  _ loved her  _ goddamnit. He wasn’t going anywhere. 

He didn’t say any of that. 

She’d just run again. 

“You did what you thought you had to,” Killian muttered. 

“And you’re suddenly cool with that?”

Emma groaned and Killian tried to smirk, well aware that he’d come up decidedly short on that front. “Loaded question,” he accused. 

“Yeah, sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be. I just don’t know that I have an answer for your.”

“That’s fair.”

“You asked me on Monday if you thought we could still be friends.”

“I was worried you wouldn't want to,” Emma whispered and if he was a mess then she was some kind of tempest, a whirlwind of emotions that didn’t quite make sense. 

“That’s the only thing I  _ know _ I want,” Killian said. It was half true. He wanted a lot more than that. He wanted something bordering close to everything, but if he couldn’t get that, then he’d settle for friends. 

He was a selfish ass. 

“I know I fucked up, Swan,” he pressed, “But you’re still important, well, to me, you know. I don’t want that to change.”

She looked stunned. She still didn’t know. He wondered if she’d ever know. Or what he had to do to make sure she did. 

“I don’t want that to change either,” Emma mumbled. 

Killian nodded, a mix of disappointment and hope and something that felt like an overwhelming need to kiss her settling in between his ribs. It wasn’t very comfortable. 

“C’mon Swan,” he said, nodding towards Henry. “Let’s go change city sports.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a product of two games off and an all-consuming exhaustion from watching just an obscene of basketball. Any mistakes or mistypes are also a product of that. I have watched a lot of basketball in the last two days.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been languishing in my Google Docs for months and I figured since the story was over it could, finally, see the light of day. I'm hoping to write more and maybe that sequel one day and I can't say how much every single click, comment and kudos means. Feel free to come flail with me on Tumblr: welllpthisishappening.tumblr.com


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